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Looking more like a scene from some tornado riddled state in the mid-west of the United States, this is actually Bradwell on Sea, Essex. And it is what happens when landlord and tenant relationships go awry….

The owners of the property were owed £1,000 in rent by a man who turned up at with a large mechanical digger and, having driven over a police car in their driveway, proceeded to demolish their house and two cars.

Sad to hear of the demise of Aaron Spelling, who died in Los Angeles on Friday aged 83. Spelling was the most successful and prolific television producer in history, responsible for inflicting upon viewers such series as Charlie’s Angels, Dynasty, Starsky & Hutch, SWAT, The Love Boat, Fantasy Island, Melrose Place and Beverly Hills 90210, all of which epitomised trashy glamour and were inordinately popular.

A few days ago I did speculate as to who would win the battle for the front page during the Jules Rimet; politicians or footballers.

Well, as of Monday night and former Home Secretary Mr Potato Head’s petulant whingeing I think the score is 1:0 to the politico’s. They look set to extend their lead today as Toni and Gordi continue to chat about succession once the PM makes it to 10 years in office.

And Mr Potato Head, once a Toni accolyte, seems to be edging over towards the man in No. 11, in order to secure himself another Cabinet spot after the transition.

After an early start on Sunday, getting cars ready for a little drive out to a pub for lunch, the weather let us down by raining hard on the way there and forcing us to do an emergency pull over and roof up job. Always fun.

After a splendid lunch marred only by the staff’s initital refusal to offer us dessert as they were closing the kitchen in 5 minutes (… we suspect due to the footie) we went on a little drive down to Pewsey Vale and back up towards Marlborough.

Now my old Midget has a dodgy fuel pick up (well that’s what I think it is anyway) and it always runs out when the needle get to 1/4 full. Given this knowledge you would expect I would have the wit to carry a spare fuel can, perhaps even with some petrol in it.

So anyway, the inevitable happened and we left the car at the side of the road and Big Mike and I roared of in the Aston in search the needful. Red face for me then.

It was still raining when we got home so consequently an hours lethargy in front of the telly was in order. Somehow we managed to watch the World Cup. England vs. Ecuador. Now I will freely admint to not being an expert in matters of the round ball game, but as a slothful spectator, in the mood to be entertained, I was wholly underwhelmed. What a load of dross.

And looking at the picture of Becks on the front page of most of the newspapers this morning, you’d have thought we’d won the Jules Rimet outright.

Even in the eyes of this armchair incompetent, we need to try harder, after all; England expects.

A minor victory for common sense this week. And a hopeful (ok, that was totally naieve) sign that Nanny is finally getting the message that ordinary folks are really fed up with her controlling and over prescriptive approach.

This victory is close to my heart and represents a considerable change in attitude by the nice people who run TFL. That’s Transport for London (one of the better oxymoron’s in my view). Long suffering readers will recall my dispute with them concerning payment of congestion charge – I wanted to pay it a day late; they said you can’t, I sent a cheque, they cashed it and then tried to fine me. Much argument ensued. Finally they dropped the case. Queue much celebration.

Well now it seems they have either seen the light or, more cynically, someone (probably a lawyer) has told them that the approach they have been taking for the last 3 years was not entirely legal. It most certainly was not equitable, but then, TFL were really only interested in collecting fines as the system doesn’t even break even without them.

As of Monday June 19th you are now able to pay the charge a day late. There is a slight increase from 8 to 10 quid, which is pretty reasonable to me. I could be a little more cynical and suggest this is to smooth the way for the Western extension of the scheme, which will be rolled out in February 2007. But then again, when has Major Ken ever given a fig about public opinion?

Either way, this must really rankle with those folks who paid the 75 quid fine, simply because they forgot to pay on the day….. but at least now some common sense has prevailed. Don’t expect it to catch on.

So, at last all can be revealed. Big Mike has traded out of his Bentley and up to a Roller. Oops, sorry, that should be ‘Royce’.

We said the Bentley had altogether more sporting pretensions and did rather look the part… while the Royce is – how shall I put it? – somewhat less subtle?

His riposte was in two parts – at first reminding us that deep down he is still from across the Atlantic and therefore does have an errant predeliction for such styles … and second that this was no ordinary Royce. No sir. It’s one of only 50 RHD turbocharged Royces ever made. A Flying Spur. And it has its’ own number to boot.

All other doubts fled my mind Wednesday night, when for a brief moment he put his foot down. There is not the instant flight and flat scream of my 911, merely the briefest hestitation before 2 tonnes + of a nearly 20 ft long car lunges at the horizon very quickly indeed. Noise remains incredibly muted, with just a whiff of induction rush to remind you that under the bonnet the oily bits are getting real busy.

I can see why he was smitten – it’s a beautiful car. Add to that a rich ebony black paintwork (I’m sure it had a fancy name, but basically, black is black right?) and a cream hide interior that cost about 20 cows their coats. Their sacrifice was worth it. It’s long wheelbase and even the back seats recline….

Big Mike’s new motor outside Fabrizio’s in Clerkenwell. The owner of the scooter we nearly crushed while parking, offered us £8,000 for the car. Cash. Right.

So, at last all can be revealed. Big Mike has traded out of his Bentley and up to a Roller. Oops, sorry, that should be ‘Royce’.

We said the Bentley had altogether more sporting pretensions and did rather look the part… while the Royce is – how shall I put it? – somewhat less subtle?

His riposte was in two parts – at first reminding us that deep down he is still from across the Atlantic and therefore does have an errant predeliction for such styles … and second that this was no ordinary Royce. No sir. It’s one of only 50 RHD turbocharged Royces ever made. A Flying Spur. And it has its’ own number to boot.

All other doubts fled my mind Wednesday night, when for a brief moment he put his foot down. There is not the instant flight and flat scream of my 911, merely the briefest hestitation before 2 tonnes + of a nearly 20 ft long car lunges at the horizon very quickly indeed. Noise remains incredibly muted, with just a whiff of induction rush to remind you that under the bonnet the oily bits are getting real busy.

I can see why he was smitten – it’s a beautiful car. Add to that a rich ebony black paintwork (I’m sure it had a fancy name, but basically, black is black right?) and a cream hide interior that cost about 20 cows their coats. Their sacrifice was worth it. It’s long wheelbase and even the back seats recline….

Big Mike’s new motor outside Fabrizio’s in Clerkenwell. The owner of the scooter we nearly crushed while parking, offered us £8,000 for the car. Cash. Right.